


A Different War

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-28
Updated: 2006-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8062849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Commander Shran finds his efforts frustrated and in fighting his way out of the enemy camp comes face to face with a beleagured Away Team.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

The door to the surface was shut fast. Commander Tucker put his ear to it but could hear nothing. It was not much comfort as the door was thick and heavy and bound in steel. What he wouldn't give for a phase pistol or one of Malcolm's explosive devices right about now. Lt Reed ran his hands over the door looking for a weakness. Trip shook his head. "We won't get through that door in a hurry, Lieutenant."

"Then what do you suggest, sir?"

The Commander began checking either side of the door. He paused and gave an apologetic smile. "Looks like we're gonna have to dig our way out. Best I can tell these walls are the same combination of compacted earth an' rock as the rest of this place."

Lt Reed was frowning. Trip noticed and tilted his head in a manner oddly reminiscent of the Vulcan sub-Commander.

"What? D'ya expect brick walls, Lieutenant? I'm guessin' this is part of an old disused mine. All they did was make a damn fine door to seal it up an' there ya have it, a ready made prison."

"Charming, I'm sure."

Trip turned to the two MACOs. "Let's get started."

***

The Guardians faded in and out of their semi-corporeal realm, first one then another delivering constant updates. "We must find the Human, Archer."

"The lines of probability have become more complicated."

"That is not supposed to happen."

"We have lost him."

"Impossible! He must be found."

"He is not here."

Silence. Certainty wavered.

***

Shran was livid, the bloodied transponder crushed in his hand. Dala did not want to disturb his Commander but neither could they afford to stay any longer. "Commander, we should go."

He snapped his head round, a fierce angry look on his face. As he turned an aborted cry sent him into a swift defensive crouch, pistol in hand, antennae twitching. Dala pointed back the way they had come, to where they had left their guard. Shran nodded and indicated they should find another exit then froze, eyes hard and glittering as his antennae told him what his hand held sensor now confirmed. "We're surrounded."

This time Dala made no attempt to hide his disapproval. "We waited too long."

A swift look of censure was all he got. As the German soldiers poured into the medical tent from all sides several bursts of gunfire outside sent some of them running to aid their comrades leaving just a handful of soldiers to take care of the threat within. Shran gave a tight smile, nodded to Dala, then proceded to take out the enemy soldiers. Although he could not understand their coarse shouted words cries of pain were universal in any language and Shran showed niether mercy nor hesitation. As the last soldier fell Dala began to exit the way they had come only to find that his Commander was no longer behind him. He backtracked with a barely uttered curse and found Shran peering out of a tent flap on the other side.

"Commander, we should go." He hissed.

Shran did not turn his head, something outside rivetting his attention. "No." After a moment he turned his head slightly so that he could look at Dala but also keep an eye on what was going on outside. "It could be Archer."

Dala blinked. The Commander was obssessed with the Human but he was not foolish enough to say so out loud. "We do not know it is him." Said Dala cautiously.

A tight smile flickered across his Commander's face. "Then maybe we should find out. I didn't come all this way to go back empty handed."

***

It seemed as if he had been in this place or state forever and yet Captain Jonathan Archer had the odd feeling that no time had passed at all. Where was he? Or should that be when? He could not see much, the dark was an unremitting yaw of emptiness that clawed at both mind and soul with equal tenacity. Then a blinding flash of light dazzled him. He felt sick. Blinking he found himself slowly focusing on an impossibly bitterweet scene.

Gone was the dark empty void that held him in thrall, in its' place the tableau unfolding before him was bittersweet filling him with joy and loss. The remote controlled ship flew above his head, his father's laughter as light as his happy heart. Their eyes on the little model ship. The moment when it had first taken off and climbed into the sky had left him exhilerated. The sense of achievement bringing his boyhood dream that little bit closer to reality. Although it was only a model he was determined that one day that would be him, turning all his dreams of space flight and exploration into reality. Then came the crash, the rush of anxiety as he worried about the damage and the disappointment that his proudest moment had ended so abruptly in failure. But his dad never saw it that way. Not once. Henry Archer was proud of his son, shared every achievement however minor or transitory it might seem. Everything he did was guided by love and now the son in looking back found he had never missed him more.

"Dad!"

A sigh, a cry from the heart. A wish, a plea, an apology for failing him yet again. Tears quick and fast blurred his adult vision until a hand crossed the span of years and dried them. His breath caught. His heart all but stopped beating at the physical touch. Eyes widened. The impossible made flesh looked on him with gentle concern born of a father's abiding love. "It's okay son. We'll mend it together and you *will* fly again."

***

T'Pol wanted to send another shuttle down but knew it would be folly. Until they knew what had happened to the Away Team they could not risk any more of their people but her heart was at constant war with logic. Duty constricting the instinct to find him, to reunite with her ashayam. To guard and protect him, keep him safe forever. It was such a powerful emotion that she did not dare indulge her desire to concentrate on the feelings running rampant through her mind, body and soul. Enterprise needed her. The lost Captain would be relying on her. And most of all her ashayam was counting on her being strong.

Ensign Hoshi Sato glanced across at the taut rigid form of the Vulcan. She exchanged a brief worried look with Travis. T'Pol turned her head and locked her with a firm gaze. "Open a channel to the Andorian vessel."

If Hoshi was surprised she hid it well. As soon as the channel was open she nodded.

"This is T'Pol of the earth ship Enterprise calling the Andorian ship Nestar." Hoshi's eyes widened slightly. Since when did they know the name of the ship?

"What do you want Vulcan?"

T'Pol ignored the deliberately insulting tone. Lt Tara's haughty face filled the screen, oozing distain and contempt. "Have you heard from Commander Shran?"

Her eyes blazed. "Our business is none of yours!"

The screen went blank. Hoshi gave T'Pol a nervous look. "They've cut off communications."

"It probably means they know no more than we do," Said Travis.

"A situation that is unacceptable." Responded T'Pol. She was quiet for a few moments then looked at Hoshi. "Are there any other vessels within scanning range, Ensign?"

Hoshi shook her head. "No, just us and the Andorians."

T'Pol's back stiffened. "Open a channel to the Andorian ship." Hoshi opened her mouth to protest then thought better of it and simply did as she was told.

Lt Tara's face appeared on the screen. If she had been unhappy to be hailed before it was as nothing to the undisguised hostility on her face at being hailed a second time, as if she thought the Vulcan considered them at her beck and call. "Why do you contact us again?"

"We have something in common. Both of us have Away Teams down on the surface and neither of us has been able to make contact with them."

"Do not assume that your own pathetic situation applies to us."

The Vulcan's eyes narrowed slightly but she kept her voice emotionless, her tone as flat and unresponsive as any mask. "We should work together."

"Why would we want to do that?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow slowly and gave the Andorian an arch look. "I assume you want to go home?"

There was a poorly disguised rage on Lt Tara's face as if she could not believe the affront of the Vulcan. "If we do we will do so without any help from you!"

"You may have no choice."

Definite sparks now flew, Lt Tara's blue skin darkening. "You forget, in the absence of Commander Shran *I* am in charge of this vessel. If you attempt to contact us again I will have your ship destroyed."

"Then you will be, as the Humans would say, 'cutting your nose off to spite your face'."

Everyone blinked. The Andorian trying to work out what T'Pol had said and the bridge crew suprised at hearing a Vulcan calmly quote an Earth saying as if it was something she did all the time. It briefly occurred to Hoshi that T'Pol's use of the phrase had been deliberate. A calculation to throw off the disparaging attitude that impeded any meaningful conversation.

"We should combine forces." She continued.

Lt Tara blinked slowly. "We do not need your help."

T'Pol's voice was as cool and calm as the Andorian's was tense, taut and terse. "You may not, Lieutenant, but your Commander may lack that luxury."

***

Where the hell was he and what was going on? The Captain felt a moment of disassociation. Events and places dipping in and out of his consciousness and making him dizzy. Real and fabricated wore the same coat of many colours, only the nuances had depth. Somewhere in the heady mish-mash of memories the present left a metallic tang in his mind that echoed like an aftertaste on his tongue. "I'm supposed to be dead--aren't I? You said you were going to kill me."

For what could have been seconds or hours nothing happened. The blur of vision being fast forwarded through memories too numerous to process made him shut his eyes in an automatic and useless response. The images trapped inside his head could not be blocked out or ignored. He stumbled and sat, hardly cognisant of having moved at all. Echoing whispers circled round and round like malevolent gaolers taunting him. "You will die but when is unimportant so long as it is by our hand."

"I don't understand."

"You violated us and now we will violate you. Is that not what your kind call justice?"

His head felt foggy. "Our kind?"

"Humanss." The voice hissed.

"I never did anything wrong."

The moment the words were out of his mouth something whipped passed his face, so quickly only the rumour of its' passing brushed his cheek but it was enough to set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. He wondered if this was what insanity felt like. Then he had the sense of slowing down, the blurred images coalescing into something he could grasp. His mind seeking meaning, order out of chaos, understanding out of confusion. What he saw was nothing he could have invented but was it real? Was he being played with, manipulated? And if so how could he circumvent this process and escape the madness that beckoned?

He was standing on a high plateau, impossible waves hitting him with heat that burned and rolled off him along with the hiss of his evaporating sweat. So dry that the moisture of the saliva in his mouth was sucked out of him. When he breathed vapor vanished from parched cracked lips. His face burned. The almost white grasses crunched when he walked, brittle stems breaking off and losing the feathery heads of arid seeds. The pollen like dust irritated his eyes, throat and mouth sending up thick little clouds when he walked. It clung like dust to him as if he had been dipped and rolled in finely sifted icing sugar. He wanted to close his mouth to keep the dust out but it was too hot and his panting breath sought any relief however pathetic and inadequate. He wondered that his blood did not boil.

The Captain carefully looked around him, saw no obvious signs of shelter from the heat. Vision wavering in every direction from the heat haze, his steps slow and halting, unsure of his footing in a land so hostile and uncertain he could not be sure in which direction safety might lie. A sudden upsurge of warm air caused him to stop, finding a modicum of relief in the movement that brushed the heat passed his blistering cheek. Then a huge shadow fell over him and even as he gloried in that temporary relief a surge of fear shook him. He looked up just in time to duck as something huge and fantastic swooped down with outstretched claws like oversized talons seeking to rake the flesh from his bones.

***

"Come on, we're almost there! I can feel it."

Corporals Mayo and Fox dug harder, deeper, clawing back the solid earth with the flat rocks Trip had found for them. Beside them Lt Reed did the same, his fingernails blooded and ragged where his desire for speed had outpaced his ability to spot the hard embedded bits of rock that tore up the skin of his hands as they slipped on his makeshift spade. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but getting out. The air was thick and heavy, breathing more effort than before. Commander Tucker was just as filthy. With a supreme effort all four men attacked the wall at the same time. Without warning the weakened section gave way beneath their combined effort and weight.

They spilled out with relief and hope, the beautiful blessed coolness of the night air like an elixer to their starved and flagging lungs. In a heap they landed, weary and encouraged. Trip staggered to his feet first, was about to lean down and help Malcolm up as the two MACOs pulled each other up when the loud distinctive sound of a weapon being cocked froze him in his tracks. He cursed and raised his hands in the air as he looked up, the circle of German soldiers closing in on them like a noose. Lt Reed spat the dirt out of his mouth. "Bloody hell!"

Despite their dire straits Trip felt a stirring of inappropriate humour. "Yeah, outta the fryin' pan an' into the fire, Malcolm."

The rifle butt hit him in the face before he could duck. Corporal Mayo's eyes narrowed but he never said a word. The three of them now silent as the Commander sprawled flat out on the dirt, blood running down his face where the skin had been split. Semi-conscious and too out of it to respond when the nearest soldier kicked him, he was half dragged and half hauled to his feet. Lt Reed automatically moving close enough to support him. Corporal Fox warily inched to the other side of the Commander and helped to keep him upright. Lt Reed had the distinct feeling that if Trip fell again their captors would not hesitate to put him out of his misery with a bullet to the brain.

***

Helmsman Travis Mayweather felt like he was witnessing an old fashioned Mexican standoff. Right now he would not want to bet money on who would win. While T'Pol was definitely a force to be reckoned with the Andorian's quick and volatile temperament made nothing certain. T'Pol waited patiently, not so much as blinking. When the Andorian spoke, her tone was begrudging but less confrontational than before. "What do you have in mind?"

"A pooling of resources.."

The Andorian's eyes snapped. "Unthinkable!"

"If you will allow me to finish?" T'Pol paused and waited.

Lt Tara watched her cool composure and fought against the urge to simply fire on the Human vessel out of irritation. Part of her was impressed and intrigued by the hated Vulcan. It would be amusing to see what sort of plan the first officer came up with so that she could tear it to pieces. She gave a curt nod.

"We should adapt our sensors to work in tandem."

"It would not work, they are incompatible."

T'Pols' eyebrow rose. "Has it been tried before?"

"We will not share intelligence."

The Vulcan resisted the urge to grind her teeth. "Very well. We know where the Away Teams landed, fortunately their proximity to each other is not far. What we don't know is what happened once they landed. Our team landed first then we lost contact with them. Have you had any word that Commander Shran has seen them?"

Lt Tara looked uncomfortable. "We lost contact with Commander Shran not long after he landed. I told him this was a mistake."

"Captain Archer's biosigns were close to the location of the two landing parties. We need to converge on that area..." T'Pol broke off for a moment her perfect mask slipping. Concern etched into her schooled features. She had felt Commander Tucker for a brief moment. Initial euphoria followed by pain. He was hurt. Her eyes narrowed. "We must hurry."

The Andorian gave her a keen look, her eyes suspicious. "What is it you are not telling us, Vulcan? Perhaps you seek to lead us into a trap?"

T'Pol's usually infinite patience actually snapped. "We have no more time to bandy words with you, Lt Tara. If you will not help then at least do not interfere."

A curt nod to Hoshi and the communication was cut. Dazed, Travis stared at T'Pol. What was that all about? He felt anxious and nervous. Was the Vulcan losing it? Surely now was not the time to anger the Andorians? They needed co-operation not confrontation. T'Pol 's eyes became unfocused for a moment then she turned to Rostov who was currently manning her science station. "Check for the Away Team biosigns, Ensign."

In silence the bridge staff watched as Michael Rostov quickly did just that. His expression when he looked up again was one of awe. "How did you know...?"

"Quickly, we need to get a transporter lock and return them to Enterprise."

He nodded and hurried from the bridge. T'Pol took his place and monitored the biosigns. Hoshi and Travis exchanged a look. How had she known? Rostov's voice cut in on their silent speculation. "I'm ready."

"As soon as you have a lock, Ensign--energise!"

***

Captain Archer contemplated staying on his knees. Certainly the sight that met his eyes seemed to come straight out of science fiction. He *had* to be dreaming only dreaming had never felt this real before. A harsh inhuman cry made him look up but he was not quick enough to escape the talons a second time. With a sweeping rush he felt the sharp claws dig into his shoulders and then the lurching sway of the fabulous beast lifting him off his feet and into the air. Pain shot through him as he fought to stay conscious. His eyes smarting, his vision blurring. Air rushed passed him at an impossible rate. Gritting his teeth he opened his eyes then wished he hadn't. The ground too far below for comfort.

It was then that he saw the plateau and how high above the rest of the planet surface it was. More than a thousand feet by Earth measurements. The ground beneath the plateau looked almost lush, rich and vibrant not parched and dull like the tabletop. The huge beast which bore him turned in a long graceful arc making the Captain's stomach heave. As they turned to come back towards the plateau he noticed what looked like huge black eyes glaring at him. Only as they got closer did he realise they were not eyes but caverns. Row upon row cut deep into the red and sandy rock. Something teased at his memory then was lost as he felt a burning sensation graze his left ear followed seconds later by the distinctive hum and fizz of weapons fire. Who in hell was firing at them? And why?

That was when he looked down. Below he could now see small dots converging, black marks upon the pale landscape forming rows like visible scars. The beast swooped lower and he cried out, the pain almost unbearable as flesh tore and muscles began to rip. A voice out of nowhere cautioned him. "Relax, soon you will be safe."

The edge of delirium beckoned. Like a safe haven it promised oblivion from pain and the pursuit of the impossible. Almost he became insensate to the heavy leathery beat of the many coloured irridescent wings. As they came in lower he fancied he saw the startled angry faces of their attackers. It was only as he blacked out he realised what it was he had seen. The cavern echoing with the sounds of concerned but cautious voices gathering in whispers around his ears as all sense finally left him and darkness fell.


End file.
